306 DEVONSHIRE WELLS. 



drops, then in bucketfuls, then in drops again, — and 

 the shower is over. 



Thence through a little shady dell, where the wet 

 branches of the trees hang down so low that they 

 deposit their drops upon the traveller, as he brushes 

 past them ; — a romantic little dell, half- encircled by a 

 rivulet, now swollen into a turbid torrent; and I 

 come to a place where the stream pours over a wall 

 in two tiny cascades, each of which is received into a 

 high trough, for the benefit of thirsty cattle. It is 

 now a hiJly road, and a winding one, across fields, and 

 through a multitude of gates, to Houseworth, another 

 farm. Here a little object struck my eye quite cha- 

 racteristic of Devon. One of those enclosed wells, 

 which we so often see by the road-side, was here 

 erected in the very centre of the highway, or rather 

 in the spot whence three ways diverge. It was built 

 with more than ordinary care, a regular four-sided 

 house, except that the front was open, and covered 

 with a bungalow roof, as tidily as a cottage. It was 

 pleasant to look in, and see the water beautifully 

 clear and pure, shadowed over with ferns of various 

 kinds, depending from the walls all round the interior, 

 the nakedness of the stone above' the brim of the 

 water being concealed by a thick drapery of liverwort 

 of the most refreshing greenness. 



Still over cultivated hills, now commanding a fine 

 view of the sea-ward horizon, and Lundy Island. I 

 arrive at Morte ; but before entering the village, I 

 wished to explore Kockham Bay, situate about a mile 

 to the right. Dismounting, therefore, I waded through 

 the wet litter of a farm-yard, and along a narrow 



